Day 1 - Scene 3
Ten minutes later they came around a bend in the road and saw Grums ahead of them. The village was peaceful and quiet but apart from that it wasn't at all what Enar had expected. Friendly-looking little cottages stood in a neat semicircle around a large open space with an old roofed well in the middle. Behind that first row of buildings the rest of the village mingled with the forest in a seemingly haphazard fashion; trees growing where they felt like and houses nesting where they were comfortable. In a typical anetacht village people would live underground in hillside burrows but, like Hasse had explained earlier, where there were no hills there were no hillsides. Despite this Grums still felt very much a traditional anfylk village. Enar, who knew nothing of such things, couldn't quite put his finger on why that was the case. To him it just felt homely and comfortable in a warm and welcoming way – even from a distance. As they approached the village more details became clear. The open space in the middle was covered by a neatly trimmed lawn and the old well was covered in vines and colorful flowers. Some of the larger trees had little decks or balconies in them and Enar noted at least one such deck where someone looked to be having their afternoon meal. That wasn't something he'd ever imagined he'd find in an anfylk village, but at the same time the idea of having a cup of tea in the top of a tree very much appealed to him. On the lawn around the well people were relaxing on blankets or directly on the grass. Some were talking to each other and some just lay there looking at the sky or napping, it was hard to tell which at a distance. As the cart drove closer heads turned their way and someone rose to stroll off towards one of the little cottages but other than that no one seemed to pay them much attention. Enar was a little disappointed. He'd pictured their arrival being met by excited children yelling and running alongside the cart as they drove into the village. Instead, they were met by seeming indifference from the locals and there weren't even any children in sight. He felt a little foolish. As he thought about it he realized that a horse and cart showing up in the village probably wasn't that big a deal to anyone here. Hasse had driven around the anetacht for all his life and there had been plenty of other carts and drivers back at the train station. Enar reminded himself the people here were traditional, not primitive and that there was a big difference between the two. The road took them up to the big lawn and then along the row of houses that surrounded it. Halfway around the semi-circle was a gap between the cottages where the road split into two. One way continuing east out the other end of the village and one cutting south between the buildings and on into the forest. This was where Hasse reined in and stopped the cart. “Hah! There we are. This is Grums ladies and gentlemen. Best harvest festivals in the world. Too bad it's not harvest time. Your loss lads, plan better next time.” The old man roared with laughter and then yelled and pointed at one of the locals lounging on the lawn. “You there, Aaron isn't it? Where's Ginette? I've got apples for her.” The man Aaron lifted his head from where he lay watching them on the grass. “It was Aaron went off to get her. I'm Roscoe. Aaron's my cousin.” “Nah, you're messing with me. You young rascals alway mix your names up to confuse me. You're Aaron and that's the end of it for today. You can be Roscoe next time.” Aaron, or Roscoe, who looked to be at least a decade older than Enar, raised his arm and made a thumbs up sign before letting his head fall back and rest in the grass once more. Clearly he was done talking. “Whatever, Ginette's on her way, she'll be here in a few. You lads hop off and walk around a bit. Go look at the well or something. Don't get lost, we're leaving as soon a Ginette has her apples.” Enar and Brunolf helped Jorg get his luggage down from the back of the cart. The old gentleman politely bade them farewell and wished them a pleasant stay before he walked off on his own. He was smiling happily and walked with determination; disappearing in among the trees and houses. Clearly he'd been there before and knew exactly where he was going. No one paid them any mind as they sauntered over to admire the old well. It looked like it was taken from a fairy-tale picture. Smooth rocks had been carefully laid into a circular wall and a sturdy wooden structure held up a winch and the little roof that covered it all. Green flowering vines crept everywhere and moss was growing thick in the cracks between the stones. A sturdy wooden bucket hung on a peg and the rope hanging from the winch had a hook on its end to secure the bucket. “Do you think the horse is thirsty?” Brunolf who'd barely said a word so far suddenly spoke up, almost eager. “Maybe she'll want some water?” Enar considered that. He didn't know much about horses, but it was a warm day and she'd been pulling them for nearly an hour to get here. “Maybe. I don't know, perhaps we should ask Mr Hasse first. Should I go?” Before they got any further Hasse himself settled the issue for them. “Hey! Weaklings!” came a loud yell from over by the cart that couldn't have been directed at anyone but them. “Could you fix me up some water for my Rosalove? Just drop the bucket and turn the crank. There's no button to push!” The last comment drew some laughter from the locals who were now all looking at Enar and Brunolf with big grins on their faces. It was meant as a joke but it was still embarrassing. Enar knew very well how to get water from a well. It was obvious enough just looking at it. He'd come here to get a taste of traditional anfylk life but the part where they made fun of outsider was one he could do without. Brunolf seemed to take it all in good cheer though and shouted back for everyone to hear. “What do you mean no button? How does that even work? Hey, Enar, what will we do without a button to push?” Then he too burst out laughing along with everyone else around them. Enar felt his face redden and quickly moved to secure the bucket to the winch, bowing his head under the roof so he wouldn't see the people looking at him. Holding on to the rope he lowered the bucket into the well, careful not to bang it against the walls of the hole. Perhaps he was being too serious. It was a joke after all. He thought about what his father had told him once when some of the kids in school had been making fun of him; about how it's better to give of yourself and have people laugh with you than at you. It had taken years before he got his head around that piece of advice and he still had a hard time acting on it. He tried, but it was difficult for him. When the rope went slack he jostled it around a little until he felt it go taut again as the bucket filled with water. Satisfied the bucket was full he stepped back, raised an arm to point at Brunolf and said in his best commander's voice. “The bucket is ready. Push the button.” It went completely silent and Enar tensed inwardly, bracing for the embarrassment of trying and failing to be funny. A heartrending moment later the crowd erupted in cheers and someone behind him even clapped their hands. Brunolf raised an eyebrow and gave him an approving nod before starting to wind the crank and bring up the bucket. Heaving a sigh of relief Enar took in the scene around him. People were looking at them, two silly outsiders drawing water from a well, with amused smiles. Faces were happy and friendly, not a hint of scorn or malice in any pair of eyes. It was fine. He'd just overreacted again. Maybe one day he'd get used to situations like this and he'd learn that everyone wasn't out to spite him. The rest was easy. The bucket was heavy, but carrying it between them Enar and Brunolf managed to bring it over to Rosalove without spilling too much on the ground or themselves. The horse pricked its ears at them and had its mule in the bucket before they'd even put it on the ground. Brunolf had been on the right track suggesting she might want some water. Enar smiled happily to himself as he watched the big animal drinking. It would be a good week. He could play the role of the ignorant tourist from the city if that's what was expected of him. He probably wouldn't even have to try; reading about life in the anetacht might have clued him up on the basics, but it was far from actually experiencing it. He had a lot to learn. While they stood there Ginette finally showed up with a group of women in tow. The cider-house matron was a formidable woman; broad of hip with silver in her hair and steel in her eyes. She immediately started arguing with Hasse about the quality of the apples - before she'd even had a look at them. “You old fool. You had the passengers sit on the apples again and now they're all dented and ugly. How am I supposed to make good cider from this? I'm not paying you for this crap.” “You keep your mouth shut and give me my money. You couldn't tell an apple from horse shit if you bit in it. I should know, I've had more of your cider than most.” The tone was serious and the words were harsh, but the smiles on the faces of the two old fylkin were genuine and they soon both burst out laughing. Enar and Brunolf, who'd been huddling behind Rosalove, trying to stay out of sight, exchanged meaningful glances; duped again. “Lads, make yourselves useful and help the ladies with the apples.” Hasse's brusque order snapped at them from the other side of the horse and they both bumped into each other trying to be the first up on the back of the cart. The sacks were heavy and it took the combined strength of both Enar and Brunolf to haul them off the back of the cart to the waiting cider-house ladies. The anetacht women turned out to be of sturdier stock than the two outsiders and were for the most part able to handle the heavy sacks on their own. A few minutes ago Enar would have felt this an embarrassing show of weakness, but after his recent realization about his own limitations compared to the locals he took it in stride. Soon all that remained on the back of the cart was their luggage. The women had carried the apples off to the cider-house somewhere in the woods behind the village and Hasse was away finishing up his business with Ginette. Enar sat down at the back of the cart to catch his breath, legs dangling over the edge. It wasn't much but he'd helped out with his first chore in the anetacht, easier and sooner than he'd expected. Brunolf hopped down onto the ground and raised a fist against him with a grin. Clenching his own hand Enar bumped his knuckles against those of the other man and grinned in response. Neither of them said a word and Brunolf walked off to lie down in the grass. A few minutes later Hasse returned. Rosalove was done drinking and the old man brought the bucket back to its peg on the well before returning and yelling at Brunolf to get on the cart or be left behind. Brunolf seemed to hesitate for a moment as if considering it an option but then hurried to climb on board, claiming the spot next to Hasse on the seat up front. They took the road south into the forest and soon trees were towering high above them on both sides. The cool of the shade was soothing after the heat of the sun but it was still warm enough to be comfortable. Enar remained at the back of the cart, feet dangling over the edge, rocking gently with the bumps in the road. For a while he could still make out the old well but it soon shrunk into the distance and became no more than a bright spot at the end of a green tunnel of leaves and branches. --- Continued in Day 1 - Scene 4. Back to Enar's Vacation.